


My Bloody Valentine [in which Dean has a hunger]

by RockSaltandCherryPie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom!Sam, Famine - Freeform, M/M, My Bloody Valentine - Freeform, Valentine's Day, Wincest - Freeform, dub-con, horseman - Freeform, non-con, top!dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-14
Updated: 2014-02-14
Packaged: 2018-01-12 09:55:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1184856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RockSaltandCherryPie/pseuds/RockSaltandCherryPie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean has a hunger. It's Sam's love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	My Bloody Valentine [in which Dean has a hunger]

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place during 5x14 "My Bloody Valentine."  
> I have this headcanon that Dean would have a hunger and it would be love. but from one specific person. his sammy :)  
> Some things aren't the same as in the ep, like, Famines effect takes a bit longer, Famine isn't as easy to find, etc.  
> I don't know if I would completely call this non-con, kinda dub-con... but i tagged it anyway. also a lot of angst/confliction.  
> So here is my V-day gift to you (whoever wants to read) :) For all the sorry souls reading fanfiction on Valentine's Day like I will be.  
> Took me about a week with today as a deadline. Enjoy!

Just another messed up run-of-the-mill case. That’s what this was supposed to be. A monster of the week to clear both their heads and ease them of their pre-apocalypse stresses. Take a little weight off their shoulders and make them feel good about saving folk again; you know, a good old fashioned hunt. This wasn’t supposed to make everything worse.

_And then will come Famine riding on a black steed. He will ride into the land of plenty... and great will be the Horseman's hunger, for he is hunger. His hunger will seep out and poison the air._

 

xxx

 

Dean was in yet another shabby motel off Highway 81, doing some research on their case that turned up two dead bodies – a man and a woman that supposedly ate each other to death. They had planned on interviewing the victim’s friends and family first before heading in to check out the coroner’s report. That was usually how they did it – only get officially involved once they were certain it was their kind of thing. There was a stupid little sign on the table next to the laptop that kept staring at Dean that said _Valentine’s Special – Free Champagne. This week only. Dial ‘9’ for room service._

Dean almost scoffed. Yeah, usually he had fun with the whole “holiday of love” thing. Usually. But for some reason this year it didn’t interest him. He couldn’t bring himself to think about one night stands when the freaking world was about to end.

Sam finally came in carrying a bag of takeout and relayed the information he gathered from talking to the victim’s roommate. No EMF. No sulfur. He sat down at the little table in front of Dean, loosening his tie. Said he was going to go through some files, then told Dean he could get going.

“Sorry?” Dean asked, almost not sure he heard him correctly.

“Go ahead. Unleash the Kraken.” Sam took the laptop from Dean. “See you tomorrow morning.”

What the hell was he talking about? They had a case to work. Together.

“Where am I going?”

“Dean, it's Valentine's day. Your favorite holiday, remember?” Oh. _Oh._ “I mean, what do you always call it? Uh, ‘unattached drifter Christmas?’”

Oh, yeah. He did, didn’t he? Was it his favorite holiday? “Guess I'm not feeling it this year.” He put his back to Sam as he got a beer out of the cooler on the counter.

“So you're not into bars full of lonely women?” Sam asked from behind him, clearly bewildered.

He cranked the cap off as he turned around and it made a feeble _hiss_. Sammy was wrinkling his brows the way he always does when he’s trying to understand something. “Guess not.” Dean tossed the cap behind him, not caring where it landed.

Sam was still looking at him, waiting for some sort of explanation.

“What?” Dean asked, after taking a quick swig of his beer.

“It’s when a dog doesn't eat– That's when you know something's really wrong.”

What? There was nothing wrong. What was so wrong about wanting to stay in and work on the case together instead of going home with some foul-mouthed blonde vagabond? When he sat back down at the table, he could feel Sam’s eyes on him.

 

xxx

 

They were at the coroner’s checking out the body parts of the victims. Dean didn’t know what Sammy was so intent on finding on some dude’s intestines, but he didn’t argue.

“Hey,” Dean slid over the bloody, quivering heart in the plastic container and watched Sam as he asked “be my Valentine?”

He liked the way Sam’s face muscles relaxed as his focus shifted. But too quickly, he was inspecting the ugly heart and saying there was some sort of Enochian symbol on it.

So they called the friendliest angel they knew (even that was saying something) to help them on the case.

 

It was Cupid’s doing. You know, the fat kid in diapers. At least that’s what Castiel said at first.

 

Twice. Twice Dean caught Sam staring just a little too long at a guy in a black suit. But Sam brushed it off when Dean tried to talk about it or ask if anything was wrong. Sam did that so often.

At a restaurant called _Augustine's_ the three of them waited for the Cupid – sorry, cherub – to show. The place was practically a mating ground for young lovers; hanging hearts, candles, roses, the works. Sam sat across from Dean in his sleek suit coat and tie and ordered a salad (as usual). Dean could swear all that kid ate was rabbit food and yet he had managed to outgrow him before the age of fifteen. So that was probably the secret then. But Dean really hated salad.

When the waitress placed Dean's hamburger down she bumped the single pink rose that sat in between him and Sam and he instinctively reached out for it before it fell.

She smiled sweetly. "Nice save!"

Then Dean was putting ketchup on his burger and Sam was putting dressing on his salad. He did everything so meticulously. The corner of his mouth twitched up when Cas said something next to him. Sam wouldn't look up. Hadn't looked up in a few minutes. Wait, there. No. For god's sake, it was just a salad, not art. It didn't need that much attention.

"He's here." Cas said suddenly.

Dean was about to say "who?" but then Cas was gone and so was that train of thought. So, instead, he said "Sam."

Sam started to get up, cautiously, looking around the restaurant.

"Sam," Dean said again, louder this time. Goddamn it it was like he was invisible or something.

"What?" Sam asked, finally pausing to look Dean in the goddamn eye. Finally.

"Just... Sit down, okay?" Dean took a fry into his mouth.

Sam didn't move. "What? Dean, weren't you listening? Cas said the cherub is here. We have to go see what's up."

Dean waved a hand. "So, Cas is taking care of it. Just... Sit. Finish your salad or whatever first." Dean picked up his burger and took a bite out of it. Sam was still staring at him like noodles were growing out of his ears.

"Dean, we're not here to eat. We're here on business."

"Sammy," Dean smirked, shaking his head. "All work and no play makes Dean a very dull boy."

Sam moved to leave and rolled his eyes. "Fine. You enjoy your burger. But I'm going to help Cas interrogate the angel." And then Sam was gone, swerving in and out of the tables and making his way to the back of the restaurant and suddenly the burger in his hand didn't look very appetizing at all.

 

xxx

 

It was a bust. Cupid didn't know anything about the victims' deaths and things were starting to look more and more strange. Another victim. This time the guy went on some sort of deadly Twinkie binge and crammed over a hundred cakes down his gorge with a toilet brush. So the whole lovesick theory wasn't exactly applicable anymore.

 

Sammy was hunched over his laptop again back at their motel. Some more research. Dean made sure that's all it was and that the kid wasn't on one of those online chatting websites with the girls in panties sitting in front of webcams. Because you can never be too sure. Still, the kid was working too hard lately, giving too much of his time to this case. His brow was going to be permanently creased. He hadn't even bothered to get out of his shirt and tie yet.

"Sammy," Dean walked over to the little table. "Come on, get off that thing."

Sam briefly looked up, made a face, then those big puppy dog eyes locked on the stupid screen again.

"Sammy," Dean growled, and when Sam made no move he reached over and slammed the laptop shut without a second thought.

"What– Dean," Sam sat back in the chair, visibly frustrated though too tired to protest.

"I said get off," Dean said matter-of-factly, then reached for Sam instinctively. "Now come on." He urged him up and out of the seat by the shoulders and coaxed him toward the bed. Sam was tired and pliant, so he sat down on the edge of it when Dean gently set him down him by the shoulders.

"Dean, what're you–" Sam started, unimpressed.

Dean wouldn't have it. Sammy was tired and he needed to take care of him just like he always did. He needed Sam to want him to. So he shushed him. "Let's just take this off and get you into something more comfortable, huh?"

"...Dean?"

"I don't wanna hear it, Sammy. C'mon," Dean encouraged, unravelling his little brother's tie and unbuttoning his shirt.

"Dean!" Sam knocked Dean's hands away. "What are you doing?" And now he seemed really confused, sitting there with two of his shirt buttons popped open and a fraction of smooth skin peeking out underneath. His skin was slick, always was. Usually when he was stressed or having a bad dream. He looked really good like that, right there, staring up at Dean. He looked...

"Dean?"

And it was then that Dean realized something was wrong with him. Because there was no way he was – no, it was impossible. He didn't even want to say it. He felt sick to his stomach. There was no way he was actually _attracted_ to his little brother.  

In self-defense, and because Sammy was still staring at him waiting for some sort of explanation for his behavior, he said "what? I can't touch you anymore? You don't want me to touch you?" And it sounded so much weirder than he intended it to, so he backed away.

Sam examined him, searching for something. Probably an answer to why he was acting like they were kids again and like Sam needed his big brother to help him get changed. Or just an answer to why he was being so goddamn weird.

But then Cas showed up. He was carrying a bag of White Castle burgers and unwrapping one of them. Which was weird because angels weren't supposed to crave human food. But then he went on to tell them that the town wasn't sick on love, they were dying from starvation. Or rather, the consequences of their starvation, whatever it may be: sex, attention, drugs, love... And it was all because of Famine – the horseman of the damn apocalypse. As though things couldn't possibly get any worse right now.

They agreed to hunt down Famine in the morning and kill the son of a bitch.

 

"Cas, I need to talk to you," Dean said to the angel who was stuffing his face with another burger. Sam had shut himself in the bathroom.

"What is it, Dean?" Cas asked with a mouthful of meat.

"So what you're saying is when these people get hungry, they go rabid? And then what? And then they die?" His voice was shaky, forced. But it was because his stomach was clenched tight so it was hard to speak.

"That is exactly what I'm saying." Cas licked his fingers.

Dean scrubbed a palm over his face that was too slick with sweat. _Oh god, what if he was "infected?"_ He certainly didn't feel right in the head, that much was for certain. Something was off. He needed to – damn it, why was Sam still in the bathroom? Not that it mattered, but he was taking an abnormally long time and it's not like the water was running or anything so he wasn't taking a shower. _Oh, Sammy in a shower... Under a steady flow of water beating out a gentle rhythm against his chest, getting him all wet..._

Okay. Oh yeah. That was what he needed – he needed to stop thinking about Sam naked and wet and start thinking about how to kill Famine so that he could stop thinking about Sam naked and wet. _Fuck. What?_

"Dean? What's wrong?" Cas asked from behind him, genuine concern laced in his tone.

Dean spun around and cleared his now dry throat. "Nothing. Nothing, I'm good. Yeah. Actually, you can go ahead and pop out for the night or try out the double Big Mac at McDonald's or whatever it is you've been doing. We'll catch up with you in the morning, okay?"

While Cas wrinkled his brow, Dean waited for him to disappear. He encouraged him with a nod. And then finally, with a blink, the angel was gone.

 

"Sammy?" Dean wrapped a few times on the bathroom door. "You okay in there?"

It took a little too long for him to answer, but finally Dean heard a small voice on the other side. "Yeah, Dean. I'm fine."

"You've been in there for a long time; you beating off or something?" Dean smirked, amused with himself. But then he started to imagine it, it wasn't just a smart remark anymore, and he had to bite his lip hard to get the images out of his mind. Because nobody thinks about their brother that way.

"What? No!" Sam squeaked from behind the closed door.

"Why don't you come on out so we can get some sleep, then?"

" _You_ can go to sleep anytime you want to," Sam said, the slightest hint of an attitude in his tone. "I'm gonna take a shower."

_Fuck. A shower._

"Need any company?" Was what Dean _almost_ said. He actually had to bite his tongue to hold the words back. But they were right there, bubbling up from his stomach like bile and sitting in his throat, causing it to burn and throb. He wanted to – no, _needed_ to puke. Like, ten minutes ago.

He forced himself to get a grip and just get in bed and maybe he wouldn't feel so _sick_ – literally and figuratively – in the morning.

So he lay in bed (on top of the sheets because was it just him or was it ninety degrees in there?) and tried to break things down the way he always did when he couldn't think straight for some reason or another. They came here on a hunt. Just an ordinary hunt, they thought. Just the two of them because that's how it always was. That's how he always wanted it to be. Just him and Sammy. God, but then there was that one time Sam chose that demon bitch over his own brother. And he was fucking her, too. His Sammy, his nerdy, puppy-eyed little brother fucked a demon. Probably more than once. He probably even loved her at one point too. _No. No._ The bile started to crawl up his esophagus again. He swallowed it down and slapped a palm to his damp forehead and rubbed over his eyes.

The water stopped in the bathroom. _Finally._

Sam came out into a dark room and rubbed his hair dry with a towel. He was already dressed. He quietly shut the bathroom light off and settled into bed. He probably didn't know Dean was still awake. But he got under the covers easily and turned on his side with his back to Dean. His goddamn _back_. When did he _ever_ do that? He was probably still a little freaked by his behavior earlier and didn't even want Dean in his line of sight.

 

xxx

 

Dean did not sleep one wink that night. He stayed awake to listen to the sound of Sam's breathing because it was steady and it was the only thing that kept him from feeling like he needed to puke out his own intestines.

 

It was harder to find Famine than any of them had imagined, and everybody in Sioux Falls only seemed to be getting hungrier. Especially Cas. Maybe that was why, because usually Cas was good at this kind of thing. Or it might have been because Famine had his own posse of demons watching his back, Cas informed them.

Either way, Dean didn't really care anymore. But it was weird, though. He cared that he didn't care. Because he knew what that meant and it was that there was no denying that Famine had gotten to him. Because he only cared about one thing and that was his little brother and what he was doing every second.

Minutes seemed like hours and hours seemed like days and he spent them all staring at Sam – Sam getting out of bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, stretching out the muscles in his shoulders that were stiff from sleep. He even hovered in the doorframe while Sam brushed his teeth. It wasn't that he was obsessed with watching him or anything, it was just that he needed Sam to remember he was there. He needed Sam to look at him, too. Because if Sam wasn't looking at him, how could Dean be sure that Sam knew he loved him? And if Dean didn't love him, Sam would never love him back. Love goes both ways, after all.

Sam was dampening his face with a cloth and was breathing heavily over the sink.

"Sammy, you know I love you, right?" Dean needed to say it.

Sam looked up and brought his hand down to rest on the edge of the sink. He looked exasperated for some reason. "What?"

Dean tried to brush the question off, shrug and pretend that it wasn't the most important question jumping around in his head right now. Pretend that he wasn't terrified Sam might not answer him. "I mean, you know, right? That I love you."

Sam looked at him through the mirror in front of his damp face. "What the hell's wrong with you?" Sam asked, before spinning around and pushing past Dean to exit the bathroom.

"I don't know, can you just answer the question?" Dean said, trying not to be too forceful. If he was too forceful he might scare Sam away.

Sam was in the midst of shoving some clothes into his duffle when he stopped to look up. Then his eyes inspected Dean and he immediately asked "what's wrong? You're not gonna do something stupid, are you?"

"What? No. Come on. I just wanna know."

Sam stepped closer. "You want to know if I know you love me? Of course I do."

"...And do you love me back?" _Finally._ Dean didn't know why that single question was _so_ hard to get out but it sure as hell felt good once it was. Like the tightness in his stomach momentarily loosened. But then, all too soon it came right back when Sam took _way_ too long to answer. To say _anything_. When he did, it was simply a flustered "what?"

For an instant Dean wondered what the hell he was saying, when did he ever talk about love? But then Sammy just stared at him with those big eyes and he knew he just _needed_ to hear him say it. He needed to because Sammy was his whole world. And he needed Sam to feel the same way about him. He didn't say it enough.

"I'm serious, Sam. Please, do... do you love me... Or not?" Dean really wished Sam would stop staring at him like that. Like he was a mental patient. Like he belonged in a goddamn psychiatric ward. That look – it was equal parts confusion and pity.

Cas popped in uninvited like he always did before Sam got a chance to answer. Dean bit back a few curses and resisted punching in a goddamn wall.

That was when Cas told them there was no luck in tracking Famine and they had no leads.

 

Dean spent most of the day in the bathroom of their motel while Sam and Cas were going over some research because he couldn't even look at Sam anymore without thinking about the fact that Sam never answered him when he asked him if he loved him. Couldn't stand the way he laughed with Cas, either. He never laughed that way with him. But the walls started to close in on him and he felt like he was suffocating. It was like he had this hunger that could not be satisfied with anything he tried to stuff down his throat. He couldn't even get past swallowing food anymore without gagging it back up.

Just as Dean was starting to feel like his skin was on fire, he came out of the bathroom and saw that Sam had fallen asleep at the small table, his head gently laying on his arms. Cas was stuffing his face yet again beside him.

Dean's feet made a bee-line for Sam because he wanted to shake him, scream at him, beg him to say it – to just say he loved him – but he caught his hands in mid-air and retreated just as quickly. _What the fuck?_

Cas stopped chewing for a second to watch him.

 _Should he touch his hair instead? Pet his head or something?_ Yeah, maybe. Those brown locks looked so soft all sprawled across his face like that. _No! What the? Brothers don't pet each other! For fuck's sake._

Dean looked at Cas finally and shook his head, backing away from Sammy. _Sammy_. He looked so peaceful; eyelids fluttering, mouth slightly parted and exhaling softly in little puffs. Though, he would probably look even _better_ under Dean. Being claimed. With Dean's tongue inside that pink mouth of his that nobody else was allowed to have. So rightfully his. _Holy fucking shit no._ "Cas, you gotta take me away from him..."

"What?"

Dean tried to steady his voice but failed. "Please. You gotta."

"Dean..." Cas examined him. Seemed to figure the whole thing out, then. "I... Understand" was all he said.

 

And before Dean knew it he was in another motel room, a different one. This one was almost pitch black, with just the light of the moon spilling through slightly drawn curtains.

"Cas, I said _away_ , not friggin’ next door!" Dean could feel his heart pounding in his chest, picking up pace.

"Dean, we are _away._ We're in Montana."

"Oh." Dean tried to look around the dark room. "Well, good." Dean stood by the window and rested his hands on the ledge.

After a long silence, Cas spoke from behind him. "Dean... You know this won't work. You're already infected."

Dean scrubbed at his face with his palm. "I know. But at least I can't hurt him."

"You _can_ hurt yourself."

Already the stretch of pavement in front of the motel seemed to grow and go on forever. Lines of poles blurred with lights and lights with shadows of trees and it made him dizzy.

 

But it turned out the distance only made him more _sick_ because he hated that he couldn't see what Sammy was doing. He didn't even want Cas to go check on him because that would mean Cas got to see him and he didn't. So Cas stayed with him.

 

xxx

 

He was certain he was dreaming even though he wasn't sure how he had managed to actually fall asleep because he wasn't tired at all.

He was watching it play out like a movie. That was the other tip that told him it wasn't reality.

Sam was in the back of the Impala saying his name. No, _moaning_ his name. And he was hazy, like Dean was watching him through a fog, humid and golden. He was naked from the waist up, and was caressing himself with tentative fingers. He played with one nipple and then seemed to look directly at Dean. He bit his bottom lip and let out an obscene moan, enticing him.

"Dean..." Slick fingers trickled down over his belly button and ghosted over the line of his jeans. He was perfection. Yeah, that's subjective, but Dean was pretty sure everybody would agree on that. And Dean had him all to himself. Look how pretty he was with his big brother's name on his lips.

Dean tried to reach out but couldn't. He needed to touch him. Sam just laughed at him and then kept moaning. Such pretty sounds. He was an impertinent little vixen and he was not stopping. He was sin. His hand was down his pants now and he was squirming on the seat. His skin was getting increasingly dewy, chest rising and falling with each movement, each moan. "Dean..." His breathing picked up and he started to make little panting noises as his hand visibly moved up and down inside his jeans.

Dean couldn't see that pretty cock, needed to... So good... Falling...bringing him over the edge...

"Dean!" It was Cas' voice, someone shaking him.

No more Sam. Just a dark room and a bewildered angel peering down at him. Where was he again? Where was Sam?

He looked down and in a sickening instant realized that his hand was drenched with something. He opened it slowly to reveal thick globs of white smeared everywhere in his palm and between his fingers when he spread them. Shaking, Dean pushed past Cas and clutched on to the toilet seat in the shabby little bathroom until his fingers turned white and he began to heave. _Sam._ At first nothing came out. _Sam. Where was Sam?_ Then it felt like all of his organs were simultaneously exploding and all of the bile was coming out of his throat. It tasted like blood. Dean could hear Cas calling his name but he couldn't see him. Couldn't see anything. _He had to get to Sam._

"Cas," Dean said and stood once he was positive his legs were able to support him again. "You have to take me to him." He was actually beginning to fear _death_ as a consequenceif he didn't get to his brother _right freaking now._

"Dean..."

"Now!" Dean shouted, sweat dripping down his brow. If this angel thought he would hesitate to stab him in his goddamn throat, well, he had another thing coming. But then Cas was sighing and extending two fingers to Dean's forehead and they were back in Sioux Falls. The room looked almost identical, but this one was _so much warmer._ And Dean could actually _smell_ Sam, that sweet scent that nobody else had. _His Sammy._

He was asleep on the bed with his back to Dean, his frame loose and at ease, shoulders strong and firm. Dean immediately crawled on the bed, hesitant at first. He wasn't sure whether he wanted to wake him or not. There was a chance Sam would push him away if Dean came on too strong. He wanted to touch everywhere. There was his Sammy, within his grasp, unaware of his presence. Dean went to touch him but instead let his hands hover over Sam's shoulder falteringly slow, over the contours of his bicep under his t-shirt, over his hip, and back up again. There was a shuffle behind him and Dean shot a warning glance over his shoulder at Cas.

"Go" came out abrupt and pained.

Cas tried to speak but Dean cut him off. "Go!"

Sam stirred beside him and then Cas was gone. _Finally._ Dean touched Sam cautiously with heated fingers, rubbed over his smooth arm and dragged under the line of his sleeve. He could feel his nausea still throbbing in the pit of his stomach.

"Dean?" Sam's sleep-rough voice rose up as he shifted slightly, tried to turn.

Dean moved with him so that he was over Sam and pressed his face close to Sam's. He couldn't believe what he was doing. Actually it kind of felt like he was still dreaming. It hurt this time, though. He could feel the pain in his stomach and in his fingers and in his throat. Because he knew it was real. He knew what this was and it was that Sam was his hunger. Because he should not want to _fuck_ his little brother, but the fact of the matter was that he did. He felt the want, the _need_ , stronger than anything. He felt it deep in his bones, in his convulsing stomach. His skin burned hot and sensitive, and he just wanted to crawl out of it and into Sam. _Wow, imagine that?_ Then they could really be together forever. _Was that even possible_?

He couldn't control his body anymore. It was like somebody else was moving him, playing with him and laughing at him.

His hips were rocking up into Sam, and it was suddenly hard to breathe because this whole fucking thing was just so ridiculous. 

"Dean, what're you doing?" Sam asked, voice shaky in his ear.

"I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," Dean thought he said. _Fuck,_ he really hoped Sam heard him. But whatever was controlling him was so strong, he couldn't even be sure anymore. He bit Sam's lip and Sam let out a small whimper, and the noise almost killed Dean. He kept moving, dragging his hands desperately through Sam's hair and down his neck. Sam kept making little noises even as Dean devoured his mouth and pulled away and dove back in again. Dean was grateful that Sam wasn't struggling too much... actually barely at all. He wasn't even asking questions. It almost seemed like he was taking it because he... _Understood_?

Dean's hands travelled down Sam's ribs and slid up under his shirt. Sam gasped as Dean's nails dug in, craving the feeling of his flesh. He then yanked Sam's shirt over his head because he needed to see and taste all that smooth, creamy skin.

Dean bit Sam's shoulder and sucked on the little teeth marks he left. God he tasted so good. His desperation only grew at the sight of Sam's bare chest, and even though Dean was biting and sucking and kissing and touching he still could not get enough somehow. Sam let out a pained groan when Dean took one of his nipples in between his teeth and bit down hard. He couldn't help it – he didn't want to hurt Sammy, he just needed _more._

Back up to Sam's mouth to ravage those gorgeous lips again and Sam pushed him away momentarily, against his chest like he was going too fast and needed to slow down. _Yeah, right._ Dean pushed back and lunged towards Sam's neck, nibbling and growling again.

"Dean... Ah!" His small protesting voice got lost somewhere with the heaviness of the air and Dean persisted.

Dean didn't speak. _Couldn't_ speak. Couldn't say how sorry he was. That he didn't want to do this. That he couldn't control himself. That it wasn't his fault. Okay, that last one was debatable. But still, he wished he could stop. But those determined hands attached to his body kept clawing, eventually reached Sam's loose boxer-briefs and slid them down his thighs.

Sam's pink cock was half-hard, twitching in his lap as he squeezed his thighs together and shifted uncomfortably on the mattress as Dean watched him for just a fraction of a second (if he waited any longer he might explode).

"D," Sam whispered the nickname he used to use all the time when they were kids but that got lost over time. Hearing it now, like this, sent a shiver up his spine.

Coming back over him, Dean reached down with one hand and unbuttoned his own jeans and took out his impossibly hard cock, leaking in anticipation and gave it one hard stroke. Dean's skin crawled at the sight of their dicks so close together and he actually managed to muster up enough of a protest to _shut his eyes_ for a second and rest his sweaty cheek against Sam's jawbone. But then his body kept moving of its own accord and their cocks dragged together, and even though it felt like he was flying it was _so, so_ good, it _still_ wasn't enough. That ache in his empty stomach was still there, the fire that was igniting his nerves still thriving.

Dean's breathing was so labored now he was wheezing. He slid a palm over the outside of Sam's thigh and then easily pushed his leg up and glided his fingers along the crease of Sam's ass.

"I'm sorry," he tried to say another time, before one of his fingers pushed at Sam's hole. Sam made a soft groaning noise and held on to Dean's shoulders.

Sam was so soft around Dean's finger, his warmth swallowing him up and getting him all wet. He just wanted to be inside him _now._

Added another finger even though Sam wasn't nearly relaxed enough for it, vaguely heard Sam saying "wait, wait," tried so hard to listen to his beautiful little brother, realized how fucking _selfish_ he was being just _taking_ what he wanted. But even still, he kept going, moving, kissing Sammy all over because he never wanted the taste of him to leave his mouth.

Dean pulled out his fingers and lined up his cock, pressed persistently at Sam's hole. He wasn't even watching what he was doing, couldn't. He kept closing his eyes tight as though that would somehow make it all go away - this _hunger..._ This... _Starvation._

"Sammy... I'm sorry..." Pushed past his lips and okay, that one he was sure reached Sam, because Sam whimpered in response and when Dean went to look in his eyes Sam was looking back. His expression was injured and desperate, cheeks flush and eyes leaking, about to overflow.

They held their breath together as Dean pushed inside, Sam's fingers digging into Dean's shoulders, his noises muffled at Dean's neck.

Dean's head was spinning like a dog with vertigo, every muscle in his body on fire as he pushed all the way inside his baby brother. His thrusts were slow at first, labored, trying to get all the way in. For a second he stayed like that, deep inside of Sam, feeling the encompassing warmth of his inner walls and allowing his brother to relax around him the best he could. Sam was still tighter than anything he ever felt and _goddamn_ he was going to hell again. They might as well go ahead and roll out the welcome mat.

He picked up the pace, because this was working. Feeling Sam all around him, moaning pretty for him, writhing and clenching those tight muscles, some of the pressure in his stomach was starting to direct itself to his dick. He thrust harder and harder, chasing after the much-needed relief, Sam's whines a hazy ringing in his ears.

Dean held Sam's pliant body close to his, clawing greedily at his naked back and dragging his teeth along his collarbone. _Fuck,_ he was close. Their sweat mingled as their naked bodies ground against each other.

"Sammy," he heard coming out of his mouth between harsh pants. "Sammy, do you love me?"

Sam tried to catch his breath but it was coming too fast. He was utterly silenced by every push of Dean's hips.

"Huh?" Dean insisted, pounding into him harder. When Sam didn't answer because he _couldn't_ , Dean's stomach began to churn and boil up again and he _hated_ that feeling, wanted it to go away.

"Please," he begged his little brother, "please."

"Yes, Dean, yes," came out of Sam's mouth on every exhale, labored and concise.

And suddenly Dean was exploding inside his brother's warm body, everything he had to give being wrenched out of him in violent spurts. His vision went completely white for an instant as he stilled. And in that moment Dean was no longer aware of anything else other than Sam, and nothing else could ever dream of competing for his devotion.

As he started to tumble down from his high, he progressively felt more and more disgusted with himself. He was too aware of their cooling sweat, too aware of the sticky mess that was spilling out and over his balls. He stayed inside Sam until their heaving chests slowed. It took all of his inner willpower to roll off of him, and as soon as he did, he already wanted to be back inside him.

The orgasm had definitely relieved some of the pressure, but apparently none of the desperation. He stared at Sammy, a gentle light cascading through the window to trace along the line of his nose, creating the perfect silhouette. It hurt so much to know what he just did, and he couldn't decide whether he wanted to crawl in a hole and die or get right back on top of Sam. He couldn't even look at him anymore. He shielded his eyes under his arm and hoped to God someone would just find Famine and waste the son of a bitch already.

The sound of Sam's breathing hung in the air, loud and heavy, and seemed to never stop.

 

xxx

 

When Dean opened his eyes, it was day. Maybe early afternoon, judging by how harshly the sun was trying to peak in through the curtains of the shabby motel room. His arms and ankles were sore for some reason. He shifted and realized he was restrained. Looking over, he saw cuffs linking his wrists to the bed posts and wiry rope around his ankles. He tugged at his restraints and let out an aggravated hiss when it burned like hell. He twisted slightly and saw that there were horrible red gashes on each wrist like he must've been tied like this for a while. _Okay._ He took in a deep breath and tried not to panic.

"Hello?" He called out to no one in particular. The voice that came out of his mouth was horribly coarse. And _fuck,_ was he hungry. Thirsty, too. He could really go for some hearty red meat and a beer right about now.

It must've been about forty-five minutes later when he finally heard the door to the motel opening. He craned his neck and saw Sam walking through followed by Cas. 

"Guys, finally!" He said in his raspy voice, relieved. "What's going on? Get me outta these things."

And they just stood at the foot of his bed, studying him like he was some goddamn animal in a science lab. "Guys?"

Cas spoke first, contemplative and concerned. "What do you remember?"

"What? What are you talking about?" He said, even as flashes of his little brother writhing naked under him swooped into his consciousness. _No._

"It doesn't matter," Sam was more sincere, stepping closer to the bed, those soft eyes gazing down at him. "How are you feeling?"

"I don't –" Dean shifted uncomfortably, hearing his stomach gurgle. "Like I could eat a fucking horse, that's how. Why am I tied up anyway?"

"Dean," Cas started, "Your hunger... It was putting Sam in danger. We had to do what was necessary to protect both of you."

Sam sat on the bed, his head hanging heavy.

 _Putting Sam in danger?_ _Oh, god..._

"It's okay," Sam reassured him. "I'm okay."

"Sammy..."

Sam looked away. "Famine's dead. We took care of him."

"The horseman? You wasted the horseman without me?"

"You were sick. Infected." Sam said, his expression softening.

"And what about you? Weren't you _sick and infected_?" Dean glanced over at Cas. "I remember you, White Castle customer of the goddamn month."

But "don't worry about me," was all Sam said, as usual.

Sam reached over and unlocked the cuffs and Dean rubbed at his raw wrists. He didn't even want to know how long he had been that way. Hours? Days?

 

When he was untied things seemed to settle down. Cas uttered a few reassuring words and then disappeared. They both sat on the edge of the bed in silence for a few minutes. Dean didn't know what to say. He searched and searched for the right words. He wanted to hug him maybe, to let him know how sorry he was, but it pained him to think that there was a chance that Sam wouldn't want Dean touching him.

"Sammy, I'm sorry." And it was quiet and weak but it took a lot of strength to say. "I'm so sorry..." He couldn't look at him, was too ashamed, so he buried his head in his palm. Yeah, he was pretty much telling Sam that he _remembered_ what he did (to some extent), but he wanted him to know that he tried so hard to stop... So hard. He had so much to say but that was all his choked up throat would allow out.

"Dean... It's okay." And suddenly Sam's hand was at his back, warm and reassuring. "It's okay... I know." And still, after everything Dean did to him, he still forgave him. He still wanted to look at him, be near him, _touch_ him. It was impossible for Dean to even fathom.

And then the smallest voice, soft like a lull yet unwavering like a resolution, came from beside him. "Dean, you know I love you, right?"


End file.
